I am a stranger, learning to love the strangers around me - June Jordan

Buddy and Angela keep track of daytime just by figuring out the last and next time they will come together and how long alone. They become the heated habit of each other.

This is the difficult miracle of Black poetry in America: that we persist, published or not, and loved or unloved: we persist.

I am not wrong: Wrong is not my name
My name is my own my own my own
and I can’t tell you who the hell set things up like this
but I can tell you that from now on my resistance
my simple and daily and nightly self-determination
may very well cost you your life